I Don't Understand
by Ghostly Green
Summary: Hermione has been overworking herself in her 7th year. Not only that, but she's hardly eating or sleeping. How does the Head Boy help? By sweeping her off her feet, of course! HGDM, R for future chapters..
1. A Beginning

Disclaimer: Totally not mine.

It was the middle of December and still, not one snowflake had fallen. The air itself seemed frozen, though it was a dry sort of cold that numbed and chapped your face and left your eyes aching from the cold wind. Professor Sprout was constantly putting socks and scarves on her precious, frostbitten plants to keep them warm in the cold. Afraid that the students would drop or mishandle one of the plants, Professor Sprout stopped all Herbology lessons and spent all of her time with her plants. The lack of snow was even beginning to affect Professor McGonagall. She was often caught staring dismally out the window with a sour expression on her face, mutter incomprehensible words. But Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had no time to worry about the weather; she barely had the time to sleep! It was her 7th year, her N.E.W.T. year, and she was determined to do exceptionally well.

When Hermione had first found out the Draco Malfoy, the King of Slytherin and very bane of her existence, was Head Boy and that she'd be sharing a common room with him, she had panicked, terrified that he would be a distraction from her schoolwork. Surprisingly, he had left her alone and focused on his own studies. That was how she liked him best (if at all): quiet, working, and not troublesome in the least. For years she had supposed that Malfoy was a slacker who used his money and connections to get the things he wanted. He had surprised her again when she saw how focused, studious, and hardworking he really was. It was a requirement to have good grades in order to be either a prefect or Head, and though it pained Hermione, Malfoy did have the second highest grades of their year. But, he was still a slimy git and she hated him for all of the things he had said and done in the past. At least the short conversations they had were civil; cold, crisp, and short, but still civil.

"Hermione?" She snapped her head up and realized how she had nearly fallen asleep in her eggs. Harry was looking worriedly at her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just got lost in my thoughts, that's all." She lied, speaking briskly as she gathered her things together. Hermione knew she looked awful; her usually bushy brown hair hung limply down her back, her sharp brown eyes were dull and tired, her skin was pale, and there were dark, purple bags beneath her eyes. She stood up, grabbed her book-bag, and began to leave when Harry's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Where are you going? You haven't even eaten your eggs or..." Harry looked at her very full plate. "Or anything at all!"

"I'm not hungry, and I have things to do." She said quickly, trying to wrench her bony arm from Harry's grip. "Let go!" She said, annoyed. He shook his head.

"No, Hermione. You're running yourself ragged. You don't sleep, you've had at most half of a meal this week, and your temper has been absolutely horrid lately. Is it Malfoy? Is it Ron and I? I really want to help you, 'Mione, but you can't help someone who doesn't want it." Hermione sighed, giving him a very tired look. Harry couldn't help but notice how dead her eyes looked.

"Harry, I'm find, really I am. Just busy... you know..." The worried look on Harry's face stopped her. "Please don't look at me like that. I'm just busy and... I have to go." She pulled hard from his grasp and walked quickly out of the hall, deaf to his pleading call of "Hermione!" behind her.

A pair of cold gray eyes watched her leave the Great Hall, amused. His lip curled and he almost laughed as Potter attempted to bring Granger back into the Great Hall. It was useless; she'd been acting really strange lately—not that he'd really put any thought into it beyond that. She had just been short-tempered and frail lately, so he made sure to steer clear of her.

"Draco?" Blaise asked. Draco turned to look at his friend, who was so different from him. Physically, they were very little alike. Blaise was Italian with an olive-skinned complexion and black eyes, whereas Draco was English with very fair-skin and silvery-gray eyes. Blaise was tall—6'4—and heavily muscled, but quiet and shy. Draco was at least 6'0 tall and lean; he was well toned and strong, but he was no body-builder. Draco also never held back anything, was outgoing, and confident. With all of their differences, though, Blaise and Draco were best friends, and Blaise was probably the only person in Draco's life who cared for him and he cared for in return.

"What?" Draco replied. Blaise shrugged.

"You just seemed... lost in your thoughts." Blaise replied hesitantly. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I thought you always said that I had no thoughts to be lost in?" Blaise laughed and Draco smirked, giving a short laugh.

"What's with Granger lately?" Blaise asked casually.

"How should I know?" Draco asked, giving Blaise a strange, but empty look. "And why should I care?" He added. Blaise shrugged again.

"Well... I mean, you live with her, so I figured... you know... that you'd know what was wrong with her." Blaise brushed his blue-black hair from his face and waited patiently for Draco's response.

"Why do you even care? This is Granger we're talking about—I mean it's not as if she's a pureblood or anything." Blaise looked at him thoughtfully.

"Does it really matter?" He asked, his eyes wandering lazily towards the Gryffindors. Draco gave him a hard, very pointed look.

"You might want to be a little quiet than that about this subject." Draco said coolly. Blaise blinked at him in surprise. "If anyone hears you saying stuff like that... imagine what your father would do." Blaise gave an involuntary shiver. It was a little-known fact the way most pureblood children were treated by their parents. Their lives were planned out for them before they were ever even conceived; who they'd marry, who their friends were, etc. Every one of their standards and ideals were drilled into them from a very young age, especially the worth of a pureblood to a muggle-born witch or wizard. Purebloods were also very sexist, believing women to be nearly worthless, little more than property; just trophies and co-baby creators. They didn't truly love their children, and did not hesitate to beat them should they displease their parents. Draco, for on, was beaten several times every summer, and this father had on occasion cast the Crutacious Curse on him. Draco suppressed a shudder at the memory, picturing the cruel look on his father's face and the screaming, tortured agony he'd been through. But Draco knew that it was much better to be miserable and a pureblood than a muggle-born, free from pressure, but a target of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"I can't help wondering though," Blaise began again. "Is it really their fault that they were born to muggles? Is it really the fault of the muggles for being what they are? They didn't _ask_ to be muggles; they were just unfortunate enough to be born that way." He shrugged again and took a small bite of his toast. "It's the same as if you hated me for being Italian; it's not as if I can help it. I certainly can't change it. It's the same sort of prejudice, you know?"

"You've been thinking about this for a while now, haven't you?" Draco asked quietly. Blaise nodded and looked over at the Gryffindor table.

"If I ask you something, do you promise not to laugh?" He asked sheepishly. Draco smirked a little, but nodded. Blaise gave a small smile and his eyes glazed over a little as he stared at the Gryffindors. "Ginny Weasley—do you—do you think she's—er—pretty?" Draco's smirk faded and he stopped breathing for a moment. He began to cough violently as a piece of the food he'd been chewing got lodged in his throat.

"Weasel-ette?" Draco coughed, looking over at her in surprise. She was a very petite girl with wild, flaming red hair and blue eyes. Her sweet freckles made her seem a bit like a nymph, and Draco couldn't deny that she was quite pretty. "She's pretty enough for a blood-traitor." Draco said carefully, pointing out the single flaw in this girl. Well, the only flaw besides the fact that she was a friend of Harry Potter and the only sister of Ronald Weasley, best friend of Harry Potter. Blaise sighed and picked at his food.

"This is so stupid." He said quietly. Blaise stood up quickly and walked away from Draco before he could even say another word.

"Damn." Draco said, very annoyed, before standing up and walking out of the Great Hall towards the Head Girl and Boy dormitories. Draco needed some time to think about everything Blaise had said—his thoughts were going against everything Draco had ever known... and they were so true; it was making him sick.

Hermione felt guilty about lying to Harry about how she was feeling, but knew she couldn't worry him. Harry had so many more important things to worry about than her well-being. The library, however, didn't satisfy Hermione; it was unusually loud and quite cold in there, so Hermione gathered her book-bag and left for the Heads Dormitories.

"Hey Granger," Hermione cringed as she turned to face Adrian Pucey of Slytherin House.

"What?" She asked him tiredly.

"Where's the nearest washroom?" He asked sweetly.

"Why?"

"Because I suggest you get there as fast as you can before Filch comes; you know how much he hates cleaning up filth... Besides, all mudbloods could use a bath!" Several other Slytherins who had been listening nearly fell down from laughing, gripping whatever object (or person) was nearest. Hermione scowled, ignoring the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

"20 points from Slytherin!" She barked and walked away, ignoring the laughter behind her. As soon as she was out of earshot, she began running, blinded by her tears. Her heart was painfully contracting in her chest, and her lungs were burning for more air. She could barely breathe, but still she ran, choking on saliva and tears. Suddenly, she ran into something very solid and hard. Hermione hit the floor hard and winced as pain shot through her spine. Wiping away tears, she looked up to see none other than Draco Malfoy. She hastily stood up, muttered an apology, and said the password.

"No admittance." The old woman in the portrait said, shaking her head. "Wrong password." Hermione gave a cry of despair and turned to Malfoy.

"Please say the password!" She begged him, tears spilling down her cheeks. He gave her a strange but unreadable look before saying, "Unity." The old woman nodded and the portrait opened. Hermione nodded her thanks before running through the portrait, through the common room, up the left-hand curved staircase, and into her room. She slammed the door behind her, never feeling so humiliated in her entire life.

Draco was confused. Granger had never cried in front of him before, nor had she ever looked so pathetic. She was steadily growing weaker and frailer, both emotionally and physically. When she had run into him, he hadn't so much as moved. She was so light and fragile that it had felt like a small ball had been thrown at him. Then, she had apologized and begged him to help her. Apparently, she had cracked.

Draco shook his head. The whole bloody world was insane!

Draco had spent a mere 5 minutes in his room before he left for the library to study. He would have preferred to do it in his room, or even in the common room, but Hermione's sniffles and the furious scratching of her quill combined were driving him utterly mad. Hours later, Draco walked back to the common room and was surprised by the sight that met him there.

Granger, asleep on the couch.

Her once glossy, full locks were limp and spread out over the pillow her head was on, dulled from lack of care. Her body was thin, dangerously thin, and he noticed how sunken in her cheeks were. She was wearing a thin white tank-top and black pajama-bottoms, and Draco could see her ribs through her shirt. Her skin was pale, but nothing like his; she was pasty, wasted, and sickly looking.

A heavy, open book was lying across her stomach, making it harder for her to breathe. The fire had died out and she was shivering in her sleep; she seemed to be having a nightmare, for her face was screwed up in pain. Granger whimpered in her sleep and began to shake harder; Draco couldn't blame her, it was as cold as the dungeons in there. Not knowing exactly why, Draco strode over to her and picked her up in one smooth motion. She was even lighter than he had expected: she couldn't have weighed more than 85 lbs.! He was feeling sick at the thought of someone weighing so little and gagged a little before coughing slightly. Her eyes opened somewhat lazily, her expression dreamy and her eyes unfocused.

"Malfoy?" She said softly. She looked utterly exhausted, and an almost alien feeling overwhelmed him; pity. He nodded and she fell back asleep. He slowly carried her up the left staircase and into her room. Her room was painfully neat, as was his, and decorated in the traditional Gryffindor red and gold. Draco carried her to the large, four-poster bed, and slipped her under the covers. He pulled them up to her chin and sighed, walking away.

He had no idea why he did it.


	2. Weakness

**Disclaimer: **Still, totally not mine.**   
**

**A/N:** Wow, you guys! I never expected to get so many reviews so quickly! I didn't expect to get any at all, as the success rate of my first story... well... let's just say it was a bit of a flop. In any case, you guys totally had me crying I was so happy! I felt really, REALLY good after seeing that people DO like my writing and DO appreciate my writing style. Review Comments at the end!

**BETA READER NEEDED...**

Anyways, on with the story!!

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Hermione woke up feeling quite warm, snuggled under her blankets. Blankets? She sat up, blinking in the bright light and look around her room. Strangely enough, she couldn't remember going to bed. _I must have been half-asleep or something..._ She reasoned with herself before she climbed out of bed. It was clearly a mistake, as a wave of dizziness and exhaustion hit her in one large wave, and she fell back onto the bed. _What's wrong with me?_ She wondered. Her stomach growled and she winced, realizing that she hadn't eaten in at least 3 or 4 days. She would have eaten something, but there was no time to eat. It's not as if she didn't _want_ to eat; on the contrary, she would have absolutely loved diving into a meal of eggs and bacon, a meal she had taken for granted for so many years. There just simply wasn't time with all of her classes, extra studies and prep work, the assignments that just kept piling up... and of course, she had to stay refreshed on all of her other spells and such, so she spent most of her time holed up in her room or in the library where she read old books and new books into the late hours of the night. It was a highly demanding schedule, seeing as how she got almost no interaction with her friends, or anyone at all for that matter, and she could almost feel the dreaded exhaustion that threatened to strike her down. If she forgot to one assignment... forgot to write one essay... Hermione shuddered at the thought. Her pile of homework would continue to grow and grow, and soon, there wouldn't be time for anything at all—which meant the precious few hours of sleep she got every night.

Hermione winced at the sound of knocking on her door, a pounding headache ailing her. "Come in!" She called hoarsely. The door opened to reveal Malfoy, his face slightly bored-looking.

"Breakfast just started." Her said monotonously. Some of his smooth silver-blonde hair fell over one eye, hiding it from view, but the visible eye continued to reveal no emotion whatsoever, giving him a dark appearance.

"Thank you," She said uneasily. "I'll—er—just get ready then." She swung her legs over the side of the bed just as he turned to leave. Shakily, Hermione tried to get up, but the dizziness overwhelmed her and she crumpled to the ground. She crashed into her nightstand on the way down, sending it and the books atop it crashing down on her. A strangled cry escaped her lips, but she shook it off and pushed the books and nightstand off of herself. Struggling, she stood up and walked towards the bathroom. When she tripped, a voice stopped her.

"You know, if you'd actually eat something once in a while, you wouldn't be nearly killing yourself just to get to the bathroom." She turned to see Malfoy looking in on her, his voice dripping with contempt. He flipped his hair away from his eye and she raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do you care if I kill myself?" She asked, brushing a curl of her dark hair from her eye. He raised an eyebrow back at her.

"Did I say I cared?" He asked, a smirk playing at his lips. She glared at him and rummaged through her drawers to find clothes to wear.

"You never said that you didn't." He gave her an amused stare and chuckled at the comment.

"I think I've told you and your idiotic friends several times over the years how much I despise you. Or have you forgotten already, Granger?" When she gave no reply, his face grew serious. "Let me remind you: I couldn't care less about your well-being, nor your pitiful excuse for a life. I hate you and I hate your friends with every fiber of my being." Hermione glared at him.

"The feeling's mutual, Malfoy." She retorted. He shrugged and continued to stare at her. His piercing gaze was making Hermione uncomfortable, so she turned away and continued to search her drawers for clothing. When she had found clean robes and other suitable clothes to wear, she started to look back to the door where Malfoy was standing.

"Could you leave now?" She asked, turning to find him already gone. Her door had been shut noiselessly, and she rolled her eyes. How she hated him, the bloody git. Since when did he tell her what to do? She'd eat whenever she damn well felt like it, and no one, especially not him, could tell her otherwise! Her stomach growled again, and she glared at nothing in particular. "Did I say I _wasn't_ going to eat?" She said loudly. "I only said that I wouldn't let him order me around!" The headache intensified rather quickly, and Hermione grabbed her head, rubbing her sore temples. It was going to be a long day.

---

Making his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Draco let a short laugh escape his lips. Him? Care for Granger? She really _was _bloody insane. It was just ridiculous how weak she was now, and he absolutely hated weakness—unless, of course, it worked in his favor. Unfortunately, watching Granger waste away to nothing really didn't do anything except make Potter and Weasley mope, and that wasn't worth getting excited over. What she was doing to herself truly surprised him; Draco didn't think that someone so smart could do something so stupid as to not eat.

Once he had reached the Great Hall, he spotted Blaise eating and moved quickly to talk to him. Blaise, however, saw him first and left immediately. Scowling, Draco took his usual seat at the Slytherin table next to Pansy Parkinson. She smiled at seeing him and he muttered a quick hello before piling food onto his plate.

"Draco, are you alright?" He swallowed his eggs and turned to her. Her dark hair was held up in a tight ponytail and her pug-ish face was covered in makeup. Though Draco was much more fond of natural beauty, he saw nothing wrong in trying to look better, even if it was all artificial. Pansy wasn't very pretty without makeup, but she looked quite nice with it on, and that's all that really mattered. "Draco?" She asked again, and stopped his train of thought. He nodded before returning to his breakfast. "What's wrong with Blaise? Are you two in a fight?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"I have no idea. I think he's still mad at me over a conversation we had yesterday morning. It's a bit childish to avoid me, but he'll forget about it soon enough." He drawled, sounding extremely bored. Pansy nodded and returned to her breakfast.

"Hey Draco, what's with Granger?" He heard Adrian Pucey ask him. Draco was becoming more and more annoyed at the constant interruptions from his breakfast and just shrugged in response. "She looks like she's going to die or something—not that I'd mind." A few other Slytherins sniggered, and Draco looked up to see her stumbling into the Great Hall. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, a few loose curls near her temples tucked behind her ears, and she was walking shakily towards Gryffindor Table. Her skin looked a bit better—_Probably from the sleep she got last night_, Draco thought; it wasn't quite as wasted looking as it had been the night before. Right then, she turned to look at him, and she glared. He sneered at her and, sticking her nose in the air, she walked the rest of the way to the table, sitting down next to Potter and Weasley. Disgusted, Draco returned to his breakfast.

_'Unbearable little bookworm...'_

---

_'Arrogant bastard...'_ Hermione thought angrily. That was the first crude conversation they had had all year (which had to break some sort of record), and Hermione bristled at the thought of him telling her how much he hated her. All of the times he had called her a 'mudblood' suddenly flooded back into her memory, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. Of course, she had never let on how much the insult had hurt her, but it still had hurt nevertheless. She was proud of her muggle heritage, and hearing other people call her filthy as a result of her parents—well, it was ridiculous and not something she could help.

"Hermione, are you going to eat something?" Hermione snapped her head up and looked at Ron who looked genuinely concerned.

"Yes, I..." She looked at the other students who were just finishing up their breakfasts. With a sigh, Hermione gathered her books up and stood to leave.

"You're not going to go without eating _again_ are you?" Harry asked sounding displeased. Hermione grimaced and looked at him and Ron.

"Class is going to start soon, I can't eat right now." When they began to protest, she held up a hand. "I promise I'll eat at lunch, but I've really got to get to class; I need to check over my essay one last time before we hand it in." Ron and Harry exchanged worried looks and she shut her eyes tightly before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Would you two _please_ stop worrying about me? I'm_ fine_, I really am! It's just stress and schoolwork..." Seeing that she was getting nowhere with them, she made a quick exit from the Great Hall.

_'First class... first class is... Why can't I remember?'_ A deep fog was penetrating her brain, and her vision was becoming rather hazy. _'Potions? No... Transfiguration? Arithmancy?'_ The hallway was slowly spinning, so she held a hand out and grabbed a suit of armor for balance. _'Transfiguration... I've got to get to McGonagall's class...'_ Hermione staggered through the halls, up the several staircases, and finally reached McGonagall's classroom. Stumbling in, she took her usual seat near the front of the room and pulled out her perfectly written essay—which also happened to be two feet longer than it was actually required to be.

"Ms. Granger?" Hermione looked up to see Professor McGonagall staring worriedly at her.

"Yes, Professor?" Her voice was quite weak and unfortunately, McGonagall noticed. She pursed her lips and gave her a very serious look.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked. Hermione nodded.

"I'm fine, Professor—a bit tired, is all." McGonagall nodded, but Hermione could see the disbelief in her facial expression.

"If you're sure..." She walked away when Hermione didn't respond. Moments later, the class was filled with chattering students. Harry and Ron sat on either side of her, and class began. McGonagall stared at them all, a very serious look on her face.

"Today, we shall be learning how to transfigure particles in the air into objects—for example." She said very clearly, "Vetis Avactus!" and with a flick of her wand, a hat appeared on her desk. Hermione was finding it difficult to concentrate, what with her horrible headache and her clouded mind. "Class, repeat after me: Vetis Avactus."

There was a loud chorus of the spell being mispronounced and butchered, and McGonagall silenced them and repeated the words of the spell. After several tries, everyone in the class finally pronounced it correctly, and McGonagall showed them the proper way to flick their wand: Start at a 90 degree angle and quickly flick your wrist until it is exactly 135 degrees in front of you. McGonagall had them all practice flicking their wands and came around to check and help correct them. "Stand up!" She announced when all of them had been checked over. "Now, picture a feather very clearly in your mind—very clearly! Then, while flicking your wand, say the spell, 'Vetis Avactus'." Hermione stood up slowly with the rest of the class, and tried to concentrate on a feather, but nothing was coming to mind. The world grew into a blurry haze, and Hermione succumbed to the darkness.

---

Draco was busy performing his spell when Granger collapsed to the floor, but he stopped once everyone else gasped in shock. Looking around confused, he weaved his way through the crowd and saw Granger, passed out on the ground.

"Out of my way!" He heard McGonagall shout, and she shoved aside a few of the students. She knelt down to Hermione and checked her pulse. Somewhat satisfied, she stood up, muttered a spell, and Hermione was lifted off of the floor, floating beside her. "Class dismissed!" She hurried out of the classroom with Hermione floating behind her, and Harry and Ron gathered theirs and Hermione's things before running out after her. Draco, however, gathered his own things up before heading back to the Head's common room; at least he'd have some peace now that Granger was sick. '_Besides,'_ he thought, _'I'll be able to really perfect that spell—I'll never get anywhere on it in the library._   
With that final thought, Draco walked down several staircases before wandering down a very long, narrow hallway. The walls were covered in paintings of all sorts; talking, moving portraits, landscapes with animals that moved, wind that rustled the leaves of trees, and water that actually moved. There were articles and pictures praising the school from the _Daily Prophet _up there as well; Draco didn't find that at all interesting, because his father used to do the same thing at home whenever the paper mentioned the Malfoys. He went up one final staircase and came to a portrait of an elderly woman in a very fine gown.

"Password?" She asked in an almost stern voice.

"Unity." Draco said dully. The portrait opened and Draco climbed through it into the common room. The Head's common room was preferable to the school common rooms, and not just because of the peace and quiet (the lack of other schoolmates made studying much easier). As much as Draco hated to admit how much he liked anything, he did truly like this room. It had a very warm, welcoming feeling to it that the Slytherin common room lacked. Though decorated in warm, red, Gryffindor tones (much to his distaste), it was also covered in rich silver that seemed to do the Slytherins justice. The room seemed very elegant, what with its beautiful mahogany staircases and upper landing, along with a small balcony and 3 large bookshelves crammed with books. He smirked, remembering Granger's squeal of delight at her first sight of the books; that girl wore her emotions on her sleeve, her thoughts always easy to interpret. It was another sign of weakness, and it was one of the first things Draco had been taught by his father to despise.

One of the unique features of the Head's common room was the fact that two huge staircases and a wall didn't separate their rooms. Maybe it was because Dumbledore trusted his 7th Year Head's, or maybe it was simply because he figured they'd be too mature and busy to try anything. _'And hasn't practically every Head Boy and Girl hated each other? God knows Granger and I do.'_ Draco thought. In any case, there were two curved staircases that led up to the same landing with a door on the opposite sides of it. On his door, the words "Head Boy: Draco Malfoy" gleamed in gold letters, and the letters on her door read "Head Girl: Hermione Granger." Glaring at her name, he planted himself on the leather couch facing the fireplace. Draco pulled out his Transfiguration book and began studying the spell he had been learning only 20 minutes ago.

After a half an hour of studying, Draco started to doze off, his mind wandering towards thoughts of Granger. Why wasn't she eating? Why wasn't she ever with Potter or Weasley? Why was she putting herself through as much stress as she had been? With a jolt, he fully realized who it was he had been thinking about. Draco closed his eyes, trying to block her out, but her pale, wasted body only swam through his head, still tainting his thoughts. He began massaging his temples, trying to rid himself of her image, but she wouldn't leave. _'As stubborn in my head as in real life...'_ He thought angrily. _'Damn it, Granger—why can't you just be normal for once! Just get out of my head!'_

_--- _

**LadyCoco**My first reviewer! Thank you so much for your compliments, I truly appreciate them! I will continue (seeing as how people actually like this one... :). ) to write this story!

**LadyMalfoy730: **I tried really hard to keep all of them in character--guess who was the hardest? Malfoy. It was so hard to a) keep him the same, but mature him at the same time b) keep his thoughts and speaking habits realistic and c) making him a believeable character. I never believed that he would be so hard to write but surprise! surprise! he's difficult to write for. But I do love a good challenge and will definitely continue writing this story!

**PhyscoChick991:** I'm glad you're enjoying my story, and I will definitely be checking out your story

**CherryPieKitten: **Thank you for the gold star--I'll keep it here always grins!

**marauderbabe289:** No, Hermione isn't anorexic. In fact, she hates how horrible and thin she looks. The problem is (as described in this chapter) that she doesn't believe that she has the TIME to eat (which is ridiculous, but she's having a nervous breakdown and suffering from constant stress). I'm glad you're enjoying my story!

**Christine (AKA Weeny):** Why am I replying to your review when I'll just see you tomorrow at school? Lol-- I'll try to keep the muses around a little while longer... laughs

**giggleboxsam:** Thank you for your criticism--it is the only thing that will help me improve as an author (other than, of course, the lovely compliments that encourage me to write lol). I completely forgot to describe the Head's Common Room in the first chapter, so I can understand your confusion about the staircase. You see, if he had wanted to, it would have been very simple for Draco to just walk up his own staircase and into Hermione's room--the staircases end up on the same landing. Thank you for pointing that out--I'm sure others would be confused too! Also, as shown in this chapter, Draco is in no way comforting Hermione--in fact, he's a bit of an ass to her. But Harry and Ron are trying... I'll bring them up more. Thank you for helping me make my story more believeable!

Thank you so much to all of my other reviewers: **ThePatternInTheIvy, Heather, Lani, Parcheezie, Sally, breziebear, KeeperofthePineNeedles** (I like your name, btw.. lol)**, Burnt Reflections, OceanGuardian, christianchick29303, Arianth, stinkyirma, ProwlingKitKat, anafics, Narci-babe15,** and** PhyscoChick991! **Please, keep reviewing--it makes me write faster, heh.

**BETA READER NEEDED--TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS!!   
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	3. Emotion From A Cold Malfoy

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! It took forever to get this chapter all perfect--but a good chapter is worth the wait, right? And _please_ keep reviewing; they make me write faster! I can't believe this story has already hit 40 reviews... I feel so cool (lol). Thank you for all of your reviews! Anyways, I'd like to thank my beta reader for doing such a _superb_ job at correcting this chapter!! Oh yes, and I also made this chapter about twice as long as my usual chapters... so enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to J.K. Rowling, that creative genius... grr.**

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Hermione woke up slowly and then cried out in pain. Her head was pounding, and her entire body was sore and aching. The room she was currently in was pitch-black and cold. She tried to sit up to get a better look of where exactly she was, but found no strength in her muscles. After failing to move at all, Hermione softly called out, "Hello?" She heard someone approach the bed in light footsteps, and then a light turned on. The light was a brilliant white and she shut her eyes in pain. After about a minute, she squinted at the visitor at the end of her bed. Uneasily, she noted it was none other than Professor Dumbledore.

"Welcome back to the realm of the living, Ms. Granger." He said with a relieved smile. She nodded, her stomach twisting painfully from hunger and nervousness. "You gave us all quite a scare yesterday."

"I daresay Harry's given us far more scares than… well, whatever it was that happened; I can't quite remember." Dumbledore's smile broadened and he chuckled, his eyes closed.

"Yes, Mr. Potter has gotten himself into quite a few scrapes, hasn't he?" Hermione managed a weak laugh, but it quickly turned into a groan of pain from the movement of her stomach. Dumbledore's smile faded. "Why did you ask for help?" He asked her softly. When she didn't answer, he favored her with a concerned look. "The concern of your Head of House has been growing steadily in the past few weeks, Hermione. And with the incident from earlier, I am afraid that your current problem can no longer be ignored. Not eating--"

"**…**Is stupid." She concluded softly. Dumbledore nodded the usual light in his eyes gone. She squirmed uneasily under his gaze, wishing desperately for him to look away. Compelled to give him some sort of answer for her behavior, she began babbling. "I didn't mean to not eat… I was just so focused. I mean, there was just so much to do and I honestly didn't have time--"

"**…**To eat?" He interrupted. Hermione nodded, and Dumbledore gave a great sigh. He massaged his temples with closed eyes, looking pained. "Ms. Granger, there is always time to eat. Whether it be grabbing a piece of toast or skipping a trip to the library, there is always time to eat."

"But Professor--" Dumbledore silenced her with a wave of his hand and sighed tiredly.

"Ms. Granger, if you continue to refuse to eat, I will have to place you in the care of St. Mungo's Hospital, or entrust you in the care of a fellow student or teacher. The rest of the staff and I will be keeping a close eye on you. Should you not attend even a single meal, I will be forced to take one of these actions." She gave him a dull, unreadable look, and he stared at her thoughtfully. "It may be best to put you under the watch of your fellow Head Pupil, Mr. Malfoy." A look of horror crossed her face and he almost chuckled. _'They're more like Lily and James Potter than they know**,' **_hethought, laughing inwardly. "Do I make myself clear?" She nodded weakly, looking sick. "I'm sure that you could do with some food, am I correct?" She gave him a small smile and he stood up wearily. "I'll send Dobby along in a few moments." He walked towards the door and turned to her once he reached it. "Remember what I have said, Ms. Granger." She nodded and he sighed sadly. "I hope that we shall never have this conversation again." Leaving it at that, he walked away quickly, his long silver hair shining in the hall-light.

"Malfoy? Take care of me?" Hermione said softly, once the headmaster had disappeared from view. "Kill me, more likely." She snorted.

"Now Granger, I couldn't _possibly_ live with that kind of guilt on my conscience, even if it _is_ you." Hermione jumped and turned her head sharply to the right. From the sudden usage of her muscles, she nearly blacked out with pain. Opening her eyes, she was greeted with a bright white haze that only made her dizzier. After a minute of relaxing, her vision became clearer, and she found that she was staring into the face of Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" She croaked. "What are _you_ doing here?" He was sitting in a chair next to her bed, leaning back lazily.

"Why the angry tone of voice, Granger? I should think you'd like to have visitors of higher status—it'll really help your pathetic reputation."

"And why should I want a Death Eater's _son_ to…_'help_' my reputation?" She asked coldly. His eyes were like two chips of ice now, and the look he shot her chilled her to the bone.

"You leave my father out of this, Granger." The intensity of his gaze made her breath stop. "I didn't bring up your filthy family—you had no right to drag mine into this."

"Are you agreeing with me when I say that yours is filthy?" She shot back, her cheeks tinged pink. He noticed her sudden flush and smirked.

"Embarrassed of your heritage, Granger?" She glared at him.

"I would only be embarrassed if I were the product of inbreeding!" Smiling triumphantly at his slightly shocked face, she continued. "At least my parents aren't lapdogs to Satan spawn!" His smirk faded and he glared at her fiercely, his body radiating heat.

"Leave my family out of this!" He said harshly, and she was pleased to see a slight flush to his pale cheeks.

"What, do you support your currently imprisoned father and stuck-up mother?" He gritted his teeth and she could see him struggling to not hit her.

"Leave my mother out of this!" He yelled, standing up. Realizing she had hit a nerve, she shrunk back into her blankets. Hermione had never seen Malfoy so furious, nor had she ever seen his feelings completely unleashed before. Annoyed, gleeful, in pain yes, but never this angry. It was as if he was constantly staying calm for his image or something, but apparently, she had crossed the line. His tall frame blocked out much of the light in the room as he towered over her frail form. Even in the slightly eclipsed darkness, she could see how stormy-gray his eyes were—and as much as she hated to admit it, they were nice eyes. _'Well, they would be nice if they didn't belong to Draco Malfoy.'_ She reminded to herself. His blonde hair wasn't clean-cut and slicked back as it had been for years, but instead it grew slightly past the nape of his neck; it appeared to be slightly messy, yet every piece seemed to fall perfectly into place as though he had _meant _for it to be there. Malfoy was tall and lean with very pale skin—completely unblemished skin. Hermione could understand why girls liked this git for his looks (ashamed as she was to admit it), but could not understand how they dealt with his horrible personality. As it was, Hermione was cowering before the Slytherin Prince, and was terrified of what he would do next.

"Miss wanted her food?" Hermione and Draco whipped their heads away from each other and saw Dobby staring at them from the end of the bed. He was holding a platter of food, filled with eggs and sausage, bacon and toast, and even some fresh fruit. It was making Hermione's mouth water, and her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. Nodding, she beckoned Dobby to her and he handed her the platter of food. Suddenly, Dobby seemed to notice Malfoy, and he squeaked in horror. "Young Master!" He cried and bowed low to him.

"Dobby, he's not your master anymore!" Hermione said fiercely and tried to pick him up. Unfortunately, Malfoy got their first. He picked him up and set him roughly back on his feet.

"What do you want?" He asked, still angry with Hermione. The House-Elf began shaking, and Hermione saw his large eyes fill with tears. She hit Malfoy's arm as hard as she could (which really wasn't hard at all, given her present state) and gave him a dirty look.

"Just because you're angry at me does _not_ give you the right to pick on him!" She said indignantly. Malfoy turned his gaze back on her and she began shrinking away again. After a moment, Malfoy turned back to Dobby.

"Just go back to the kitchens where you belong, Dobby. Don't bother me again." Nodding enthusiastically, Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared. It was several moments before Malfoy looked at Hermione, and when he did, the hurt was just barely visible in his eyes. Though hardly noticeable, it was still there, and Hermione felt extremely guilty.

"Look, Malfoy… I'm sorry that I said those awful things—I was just frustrated and tired and--" He covered her mouth with his hand to shut her up.

"I don't want or need your apologies, Granger." He said coldly. When he removed his hand, began to babble again.

"Please, I'm really sorry; I didn't mean to, I--" He silenced her with a look and began to walk away. "Why were you really here?" She called as he reached the door. Elegantly, he turned again to face her.

"Because Dumbledore said you'd be needing those." He pointed to the table by the bed and she noticed a large, thick pile of parchment. Tentatively, she pulled off the first piece of the stack and held it to the light. She gave a small gasp.

"But these are--"

"**…**My notes I know." He said dully. "Go on, give them a look-see." She stifled a laugh and began to read. Every minute or so, she'd look up at him, stunned.

"These are _perfect_ Malfoy." She said softly, still reading. "I never got to finish my notes—and I missed my other classes! These are… they're wonderful." She tilted her head to the side, a small smile playing at her lips as she watched his emotionless face. "Thank you." A mix between surprise and confusion crossed his face, and then he scowled.

"They're just notes." He said, sounding annoyed. And with that, he turned and left the Hospital Wing.

Draco left the Hospital Wing as fast as his feet would carry him. Granger's words were following him, echoing in his mind. _'Death Eater's son…' 'I would only be embarrassed were I the product of inbreeding!'_ Anger was bubbling up inside of him, consuming all rational thought. _'Lapdogs to Satan Spawn!'_ The years his father had taken into training Draco to hide his emotions (or have them at all) were flying out the window, and he could almost hear Granger laughing in his head. _'You support your currently imprisoned father and your stuck up mother?'_ He shut his eyes quickly, panting from the run, his rage flowing through his veins like a powerful river, ready to burst through the his skin—

"Shut up!" He roared, slamming his fist to the stone castle wall. He was breathing hard and wincing, feeling a large bruise forming on his pale hand. Granger, Potter, and Weasley were laughing in his head, pointing and smirking, making fun of his family. _'So, the tables have turned!'_ He thought furiously. Draco's thoughts turned to his father, the reason his family was shamed. _'Damn it Lucius! Damn you!'_

After Malfoy had left, Hermione turned back to his notes. The handwriting was perfectly neat—almost too neat for a boy—but cursive and flowing. The notes were long and detailed with at least three or four pages to each subject being presented, including a history of each spell or potion mentioned. Each flick of the wrist, the correct pronunciation, what the product of each spell or potion should look like—it was all there. Hermione couldn't have done a better job herself, and she finally understoodreally _understood_why Malfoy was Head Boy. He was bloody brilliant. _'Not to mention rude, prejudiced and an arrogant prick.'_ She reminded herself as pleasant thoughts of Draco Malfoy filled her mind. _'He's called me "Mudblood" often enough… though it _has_ been a couple of years… But he's still obnoxious and conceited! He's made me life hell at this school more than once, and I simply can't stand him! He's a Death Eater's son, bound to the same fate. It would be _ridiculous_ to get into _that_ mess.'_ Hermione tried to think of other things, convincing herself that he was not important, that she didn't care what side of the war he was on—but she couldn't banish him from her head. _'God, I hate him… won't even leave me alone in the privacy of my mind, that nosy, egotistical--'_

"Hermione?" Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry who was looking concernedly down at her. She smiled sweetly at him, and he smiled back. "How are you feeling?" Harry asked. She shrugged.

"I could be better." She said honestly.

"And what, besides your lovely black-out in Transfiguration, could make your day bad?" He sat down in the chair Malfoy had been sitting in and brushed some of her hair from her face. Hermione chose her words carefully before answering, staring at her hands.

"Well… Dumbledore thinks I'm anorexic--"

"Aren't you?" Harry interrupted. She glared at him and he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry." She rolled her eyes.

"I told him that I simply didn't have the time to eat, and he… well… let's just say that he didn't like that. He told me that--" She squirmed uneasily. "—He might have to place me under the care of _Malfoy_ if I don't eat again." He stared at her, an unreadable look on his face. "Can you believe it? Malfoy! The same boy who has called me 'mudblood' over and over again! The same boy who has relentlessly teased me about my heritage and made my life hell! Is Dumbledore mad?" Harry chuckled a little.

"Well, he was always a bit mad, 'Mione."

"I can't believe you're laughing at me!" She shouted shrilly, but he continued to laugh. "Can you imagine me in the care of Malfoy? He'd be an absolute nightmare! He'd order me around, force-feed me, telling Dumbledore _everything_ I did and didn't eat--"

"Which is basically what Dumbledore would want him to do." Harry said nonchalantly. Hermione continued to rant.

"Exactly! He would be unbearable! Simply—what?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm not saying that I support the idea of you being taken care of by Malfoy—honestly, I think he'd hex you first—but everything you described is, well, what Dumbledore would have anyone do." Hermione glared at him.

"Do you honestly think that Malfoy taking care of me is a good idea? We'd kill each other!" Harry laughed again and began speaking to her as though soothing a five year-old.

"I think it's an absolutely horrible idea, Hermione; absolutely wretched. Dumbledore should just go stuff that stupid idea up his--"

"Do you really think it's that bad?" Harry jumped at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, and turned to face him. Dumbledore was smiling, clearly enjoying the argument between the two friends. Harry hastily stood up and gave him a very frightened look, ignoring Hermione's laughter.

"I beg your pardon, Professor, I, er**_…_**"

"Oh don't mind me; please continue your conversation." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, and Harry was turning a horrible greenish color. Hermione was still laughing, going into coughing fits every once in a while, but she was laughing all the same. Harry scowled at her.

"Eat your food!" He barked, annoyed. She choked on another giggle, picked up a piece of sausage, and took a small bite. Hermione smirked at him.

"Your face is a bit green, Harry. Are you sure you're not feeling sick? Should I call Madame Pomfrey?"

"No!" He said, looking panicked. "Quidditch tomorrow! She'd never let me leave!" Hermione laughed again and took another small bite of her sausage. "You're going to have to eat more than _that_, 'Mione." She rolled her eyes and finished the sausage.

"Like what?" She asked. "I can't possibly finish—mmph!" Harry shoved a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth and laughed as she chewed it with a sour expression on her face. When she swallowed, she grabbed his forearm and squeezed it tightly. "I _detest_ cantaloupe, you little—hey—mmph!" He shoved a piece of sausage in her mouth and she chomped on it with a sullen expression on her face. "Harry Potter, you wanker!" With that, he began to laugh and she smacked him playfully on his arm. "I don't need you force-feeding me, you know. I _am_ a big girl—I can take showers by myself and everything." Professor Dumbledore began to chuckle again

"I'm glad you've taken it upon yourself to feed Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter." He said with a smile tugging at his lips. "But for the time being, we need to make sure that she can and _will_ feed herself before we… well, before we take any real action." Hermione's face flushed and she ducked away, extremely embarrassed. "Ms. Granger?"

"Mm." She answered.

"Remember what I said earlier. One meal, and I'll entrust you to _any_ of our fellow students, even if it _is_ Mr. Malfoy. Although, Mr. Potter seems to be doing a fine job of it, wouldn't you say?" Hermione's face reappeared from beneath her blankets. She pursed her lips and thought out her words carefully.

"Professor, Malfoy and I would kill each other. And I would… well, I would die before let him order me around."

"Even if it's for your own well-being?" Hermione nodded stubbornly. He sighed. "I'm surprised at your attitude, Ms. Granger. You and Mr. Malfoy have done well working together over the past few months; why the hostility and anger towards him now?" Before the logical, rational side of Hermione could prevent it, the impulsive, emotional Hermione burst forth.

"Because we _hate_ each other! He's been awful and cruel to me for the past 6 years—not to mention the son of a Death Eater! He'll probably end up the same way; rotting in Azkaban! That is, of course, if You-Know-Who--"

"Voldemort."

"—Yes, him—If he doesn't break him out first. I don't want to get caught up in that mess! And he's rude and conceited--"

"And very bright." Dumbledore said, twiddling his thumbs.

"Yes but…he's an arrogant _prick_ and I _hate_ him! He's said awful things about my family and my muggle heritage since second year and--"

"I am well aware of that, Ms. Granger. But let me ask you a question." She was about to shake her head and continue, when he held a hand up to stop her. "When you've answered it, you can continue with your tirade." She blushed and nodded. Harry stood to the side, merely observing, a mildly curious look on his face. "Did you ever wonder why he treated you the way he did?"

"Because I'm muggle-born." She answered absently.

"But _why_? Why is that so important to him?"

"Because he's a pureblood and they're taught that they're better than muggle-born witches and wizards--"

"Taught? By whom?" Dumbledore said quietly.

"I don't know! I don't care! For all I know, there's a school for pureblood children only--"

"Ms. Granger, please calm down. Take a few deep breaths…" Hermione obeyed. "Listen to me. There is more to Draco Malfoy than it appears—just as there is more to any one person than is just shown on the surface. I doubt Mr. Potter has told you all of his deepest secrets, let you in on that personal of a level with him, just as I'm sure there are many things about you he doesn't know. It is the same with any student, teacher, muggle, child, oradult… they all have secrets. I suggest you stop judging Mr. Malfoy so harshly until you are truly fit to do so." Hermione was silent for a moment.

"Professor… what you say makes sense, but this is _Malfoy_ we're talking about. I mean… it's not as if he's going to do the same. And he doesn't deserve a second chance from me--"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"What?" Dumbledore looked at her from over the top of his half-moon glasses, a very tired look on his face.

"Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? Or a third chance? A nineteenth chance? We all deserve chances, Hermione. Humans make mistakesevery day at every given moment. If no one was ever given a second chance, we'd all be living alone, unloved with a block of ice encasing our hearts. In fact, the human race might have even died out by now, if no one was given second chances. Humans cannot live without love and company." Hermione remained silent, working it over in her head. "I think I've left you with enough to think about for one day, hm?" Harry and Hermione nodded and returned to thinking about it intensely. Dumbledore swept out of the room, a small smile on his face.

"Do you think we should give Malfoy a chance?" Hermione asked Harry. He just stared at her tiredly.

"Hermione, I… I don't know. For all I know, he wants me dead and has for years. I don't like him, I don't care about him in any way, shape or form, but I suppose we should… listen to Dumbledore?" Hermione studied his eyes as they spoke. Pain. Every time Harry spoke of Dumbledore or anything he'd said or done, there was hurt in his eyes. Every time Dumbledore made a speech before dinner or what not, or if he spoke to Harry alone, Harry had always regarded his words seriously and considered them, but still there was pain in his eyes. It had been like that since the beginning of his 6th year. Harry had been distant for the first few months of school, keeping to himself and his studies. His eyes had always been red-rimmed from lack of sleep or… or maybe tears. Hermione didn't know, but she did know that whatever it was that had been bothering Harry was something he was not ready to talk about. She suspected it had to do with Sirius or You-Know-Who, but she disapproved of assuming anything and didn't. That space proved to be what Harry needed, and he, Hermione, and Ron were closer than ever.

"I suppose you're right. But we haven't decided anything, right?" Harry nodded and she sighed in relief.

Draco sat in the Head's common room, consumed by his studies. A few minutes later, he put down his quill triumphantly and smiled at his perfect Potions essay. Now that his studies were done, Draco could do anything he wanted to do; go talk to his friends in Slytherin, patrol the halls (hoping to give detention to some unsuspecting third year), or even read a book. Deciding that he was too tired to get up and do anything, he grabbed a book that was lying on the desk he was sitting at. The book was titled, "Hogwarts, A History", and Draco immediately grimaced. It was practically the bible by which Granger lived by, spouting off passages from that whenever he or someone else were unaware of some feature of the castle. He nearly threw the book, realizing that she had crept into his head again, but stopped himself. Grabbing the book, he sat in one of the two cozy armchairs by the roaring fire and began to read.

Ten minutes later, Draco realized how he'd been staring at the same words for nearly three straight minutes, his eyes glazed over. Unintentionally, his mind wandered towards thoughts of Granger. "Bloody perfect bookworm,**_" _**He sneered**_. "_**Thinks she knows everything about everything and everyone! She knows nothing about me…" _'Death Eater's son…'_ Her voice accused. "That's not my fault! I can't help the decisions my father made!" He said angrily to himself. _'I would only be embarrassed were I the product of inbreeding!'_ That was also something he had no control over, and it infuriated him to no end. As it was, many of the girls he had dated were related to him in one way or another—but there really wasn't much of a choice. He was only permitted to date pureblood girls—as if he'd date anything else—and had learned to deal with it long ago. An image of Granger swam before him, laughing at him. "Would you just leave me alone!" He yelled loudly and threw the book across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thud and fell to the floor. "I hate this place, I hate this damn school, and I hate perfect little Granger!" Draco stood up and violently kicked the leather couch, screaming out his frustration. He grabbed another book from the bookshelf and threw it against the wall, yelling in fury. "I hate my father's rules, I hate what he's done to my damn family, I hate Potter and Weasley and--" the portrait opened just as he threw another book to the wall and kicked the couch, revealing a very disturbed looking Hermione Granger.

Hermione had been released from the Hospital Wing shortly after her discussion with Dumbledore, promising Madame Pomfrey that she would eat all of the food on the platter. She grabbed the platter, Malfoy's notes, and headed back to the common room. She ate a piece of fruit and nibbled on her toast on the way, feeling strength returning to her body. As she neared the common room, a faint yell could be heard. She sped up, walking quickly to the common room. Once she reached the portrait, she heard another loud yell from inside. "Malfoy?" She asked herself quietly.

"Password?" The old woman in the painting asked.

"Unity." The portrait swung open, and a book soared in front of her, smacking the far wall. She turned her head to the left and saw a slightly sweaty, panting, furious looking Malfoy. He was frozen in his tracks, his hair messy and some of it sticking to his face. His eyes were a stormy gray and full of anger and hatred, and his face was paler than usual. He didn't move, unsure of what to do, and Hermione just stared at him, studying him. His robes were off, leaving him in his long-sleeved dress shirt and black slacks. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, his tie was missing, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. This too surprised Hermione; not only was he letting his rage loose, but he wasn't even trying to keep his appearance nice to cover it up.

They stared at each other for a while, both frozen in their places, unsure of who should make the first move. After a minute or two of waiting, Malfoy suddenly walked angrily and quickly towards her. She backed away until she hit a wall and shrunk up against it. His hand found her shoulder and he kept her pressed tightly against the wall, while the other grabbed the platter from her hand and tossed it to the side. There was a desperate, dangerous sort of look in his eyes and he continued to breathe hard as he stared at her.

"You tell anyone about this, and I'll make your life hell." He said, his voice shaking. He gave her one last push into the wall and walked up the staircase and into his room, slamming the door behind him. Hermione stood shaking, still pressed against the wall.

"He just… threatened me." She said softly. "Why… why is it so important that no one finds out that he got angry? It just doesn't make sense." Something Dumbledore had said echoed softly in her mind. _'There is more to Draco Malfoy than it appears—just as there is more to any one person than is just shown on the surface.'_ Hermione slowly walked to her room, staring uneasily at Malfoy's door. "Maybe Dumbledore's right." Hermione stared at Malfoy's door, almost hoping to see through it. She could just imagine him sitting on his bed, holding his head in his hands, cursing himself for showing any emotion at all. She could almost see the way his blond hair drooped slightly over his hands, his skin even paler in the moonlight… Hermione snapped her mind to attention; none of that was important. "He's hiding something." She brushed an unruly curl from her eye. "And I… I just hope my curiosity doesn't get the better of me."

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**CherryPieKitten: **You made me laugh so hard with your review--my sister thinks I'm insane now. (sighs) Oh well, so what else is new? I also am glad that you enjoy the way I describe my story; I try really hard to make it as descriptive and realistic as possible!!

**breziebear: **You made me laugh a lot too, you silly goose! Hopefully the love-hate relationship between you and my story won't affect your enjoyment of it... (?) (did that even make sense?!) Anyways, I will do my best to make you love my story and make life simple--I hate it when things get too complicated! lol.

**I'd like to thank all of you who applied for the position as my beta-reader (though you were all so good, it made it really hard to choose!)! And thank you for the reviews from RandomSmirf13, snarlygirl, potatomaker, Miss Moonlight, Princess Jillia, Greek Falcon, Shadowed Eternity, Legolas-Orli04, hops, ProwlingKitKat, KeeperofthePineNeedles (by the way, I still absolutely love your penname!!), XXXpinkkitty5467, tweetygurl88, and LadyCoco**. 

**Seriously though, guys, review and I'll write faster! Telling your friends is a double bonus, especially when they review... Reviews... I love them. They just seem to magically motivate me to write faster (twiddles thumbs thoughtfully)...**


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